


Girl I Never Loved One Like You

by BrilliantlyHorrid



Series: I Never Told You Til Just Now [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Slow Burn, Snuggling, The flu is not pretty, Unresolved Sexual Tension, sick day, skoulsonfest2k15, vomitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 12:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3174000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/pseuds/BrilliantlyHorrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye gets sick, and it's not so pretty. Simmons takes care of her all night, but when Skye overworks herself the next morning, Director Coulson is stuck with nurse duty, and he's not psyched about Skye disregarding her own health. A couple different kinds of frustration here. </p><p>Written for the Skoulson RomFest 2k15 -Day Two: 'She frustrates you,' with some 'nightmares' thrown in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Girl I Never Loved One Like You

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 of SkoulsonFest! I decided to go a different route with "frustration," since I'll be featuring Hunter heavily in day 4. This is part 2 of what I believe now is going to be a three parter, wrapping up Saturday.  
> You don't need to have read the first part, but it's helpful for the build I think. I don't know. Just read, and keep writing! I'm loving this week.

Simmons pressed her hand to Skye’s forehead. “Oh dear, you have a fever, let me get you something for that.” The scientist scurried over to a cabinet to grab a bottle of pills for her ailing friend, who flopped herself onto a stool in the lab. It was empty except for the two of them, for which Skye was grateful. The last thing she wanted was for the team to fuss over her.

“I feel like shit,” she moaned, leaning down to press her forehead against the cool table and sighing in relief. Her entire body felt gross and clammy, and her foggy head was slowly being joined by a roiling stomach. “That’s not good,” she muttered. Her verbal filter was pretty much gone, so she had been rather candid with Jemma over the last few minutes, once she dragged herself to the lab. She had been keeping up the charade of being fine walking through the Playground, thankfully, but as soon as she entered the lab and saw Simmons was the only one around, she gave up.

“Skye, you need to get off of the floor,” Simmons had said kindly, taking in her friend’s unusually pale face and the sweat on her brow.

“But it feels good and cold,” Skye murmured, pressing her cheek to the floor. “It’s sterile in here, it’s totally fine Simmons.” Whenever Skye got sick as a kid she would hole up in the bathroom at St. Agnes, lying on the cool tiles. The nuns weren’t exactly the nurturing type, so Skye had developed her own system of taking care of herself. The system wasn’t exactly backed by science, but made her slightly less miserable: lie down on the cold floor, covered by her favorite fleece blanket, and deep breaths. She used to count the breaths but it made her feel dizzy, so then she simply started to clear her mind.

“The floor is clean, Skye, but you need to sit up so I can check you out.” Giving her a hand, Simmons had pulled a grumbling Skye off of the floor.

“M’fine, just a little under the weather,” Skye insisted, while the biochemist tutted. Now, she handed her two pills and a rather large bottle of water.

“Don’t drink too much now, just a couple of sips for the pills. But I want you to finish this bottle over the course of the night okay?” Skye nodded, popping the pills in her mouth as Simmons continued. “It’s important to be hydrated when you have a fever, even if you aren’t experiencing diarrhea or v-” Skye hunched over on the stool, and Simmons heard a heavy splash on the floor. “Vomiting.” She finished.

“Food poisoning” had been the verdict by Dr. Simmons, “that or some sort of bug, it’s impossible to tell right now, really.” After reassuring Skye she did not need to worry about the mess, Jemma had walked the ailing girl back to her bunk, promising to come back with “supplies.” Too exhausted to stand up, Skye had taken her shirt and pants off in bed, tossing them weakly at the door. She was too hot and frankly tired to grab a change of clothes, so she simply laid on top of her covers in her underwear, inexplicably warm _and_ shivering. True to her word, Simmons returned with a couple water bottles, some nausea medication, a large bowl (in case she couldn’t make it inside the bathroom in time, she explained, and Skye grimaced,) and a cool towel.

The girl was a wonder, placing Skye’s clothes in a plastic bag she had brought along without even having to ask and grabbing a loose t-shirt from Skye’s dresser and pulling it over her head. “You’re amazing, Simmons,” Skye sighed, and Jemma smiled.

“I’m just glad you told me, I’d hate to think of you dealing with this on your own again,” her smile grew a bit sad, and Skye stared at her, confused. “The orphanage?” Realization dawned slowly, and Skye looked slightly embarrassed. “Yes, that was out loud, I’m afraid. I’m sorry if you didn’t mean for me to know, I guess that sort of makes me an eavesdropper, doesn’t it?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Skye reassured her as the other girl rubbed her back. “I don’t mind if you know, I’m kind of more concerned that I’ve been talking to myself without knowing it.” They both smiled, then Skye groaned a little. “Uh, Simmons, want to hand me that?” She gestured frantically at the bowl, and Simmons muttered, ‘Oh, right,’ and handed it over. She combed Skye’s hair back from her face as the poor girl threw up again, her hand rubbing unceasing circles over her friend’s spine.

“There we go, you’re okay,” she murmured, when Skye seemed done for the moment Simmons handed her a bottle of water and wiped her face with the cloth. “I’ll be right back, just small sips! Don’t drink too much too fast.” She stealthily grabbed the bowl and walked over to Skye’s bathroom ( _Kudos for grabbing a bunk with a private bathroom!_ ) to clean it. There were a number of perks to having a doctor as a close friend, especially one as immune to nastiness as Jemma Simmons. Skye had a feeling she could begin to leak green fluids out of every pore on her body and Simmons would be unphased, if super curious.

Simmons checked up on her throughout the rest of the night, and although she encouraged Skye stay comfortable in her bed as much as she was able, she eventually relented and let her camp out on her bathroom floor. It was just more practical, instead of either throwing up in the bowl and having to clean it each time or, in moments of forgetfulness, having Skye jump up in a panic to run to the bathroom and drop like a sack of potatoes on the floor. When Simmons came back from one trip to the lab, presumably cleaning up the mess before any of her assistants got there for some early morning work, she found Skye on the floor halfway between the bed and the bathroom. After that brief moment of panic, she allowed Skye to take up her new residence, provided she let Simmons put some sweatpants and socks on her first so she didn’t freeze.

After one particularly rough episode, Skye was slumped over the toilet, seemingly resigned to her fate: she would be puking forever. “You need to get some sleep, Simmons, it’s like--what time is it?” Simmons combed Skye’s now damp bangs back from her forehead.

“It’s three AM, but that doesn’t matter, Skye. You’re not well, and as you told me so emphatically, I can’t tell Agent May or Director Coulson about your condition--although I think it’s important for an agent’s supervising and commanding officers to be aware of any illnesses so as to avoid any hazardous working conditions,” she said pointedly, and Skye groaned in response. “So, you’re stuck with me until I’m convinced you won’t pass out and aspirate.”

“ _That’s what friends are for_ ,” Skye sung weakly into the toilet bowl, and while she didn’t see it, she was sure Simmons made a face.

“Come on, get your face out of there and get some water in you. If we keep you hydrated tonight you should be able to sleep comfortably tomorrow.” Simmons said, now all business.

“Thank you, Jemma,” Skye sighed, leaning back against the bathroom wall. The scientist smiled, handing her the water bottle again.

***

“I can’t sleep all day, though,” Skye said to herself. At least now she was aware that she was speaking out loud, so that had to be a sign she was better. Looking at the clock, Skye realized she must have been sleeping for about an hour, since the last time she saw Simmons was around 4. That terrible time had thankfully been her last, so after some careful thinking and strategically propping Skye up to sleep on her side, Jemma left. _Hopefully to get some sleep herself._

Testing her legs, Skye set her feet on the floor next to her bed. Her shivery shakiness from the previous hours was thankfully gone, and her stomach felt fine once she took a few breaths. Grabbing a quick gulp of water (‘ _Small sips, small sips_!’ Jemma’s voice invaded her mind, and she slowed down,) Skye stood up slowly. It was ten past five now, which meant May was already up and done with her warm up exercises. Skye would be late, but even late is better than being a no-show. She had already bailed on too many sessions with May after San Juan, and she wasn’t about to mess up her current record of not missing a single one.

Remembering to breathe and take things slow, Skye got ready to train with May. Her hair was gross from a night of being sweaty, but maybe she could pass that off as working out late the night before, or taking a few laps around the base before tai chi. _Yeah, because lying to May is super effective._ Taking one last look in the mirror, Skye pinched some color into her cheeks. The bags under her eyes were not unusual and she had never been an early riser, so looking kind of crappy in the morning should fly under the radar. She could do this. She’d be fine.

***

“Coulson,” May’s sharp voice reverberated down the hallway at the Playground, and Phil flinched a little bit. This wasn’t her urgent, ‘Something is terribly wrong,’ voice, more like her ‘Someone has done something incredibly stupid,’ voice, and he desperately hoped it wasn’t him. He turned around and his fear (Yes, he would admit to being afraid of Melinda May. Only an idiot wouldn’t,) quickly changed to confusion, then amusement, colored with concern. May’s face was all business, but the seriousness of the image was somewhat tarnished by the agent she had slung over her shoulder as easily as a bag of flour. May’s grip was on the back of said agent’s knees, so while her face was hidden behind May’s back, he was relatively certain it was Skye.

“What happened?” Phil asked, perversely charmed by the sight in front of him. It was somehow almost cute. _Look at that camaraderie_. “Did you kill Skye?”

“She’s sick and didn’t tell me,” May told him flatly, clearly not enjoying this as much as him. She adjusted Skye’s placement on her shoulder. “We barely sparred for a minute before she dropped.” Coulson nodded, losing the jokes. May was annoyed, but not because she was carrying a field agent across the base (because really, was that necessary? She had to be using some showmanship here, telling him _Look at what you did._ As if this was somehow his fault.) There was annoyance, but it was backed by worry, both of which Phil related to. If Skye wasn’t feeling well, she needed to communicate that. Otherwise she would be putting herself in danger.

“Maybe she didn’t know?” He asked, trying to give Skye the benefit of the doubt. May simply raised an eyebrow.

“Ah, Director Coulson, Agent May, how-- is that Skye?” Simmons fluttered onto the scene, and Coulson saw her eyes light up with alarm, but not surprise.

 _So, Simmons knew_ , Coulson thought, frowning. He was not sure if that worked more in Skye’s favor--she told the doctor! Or not-- she knew _and_ disobeyed the order Simmons undoubtedly made for bed rest.  

“Oh May, be careful,” Simmons’ worried voice cut through Phil’s own growing frustration, “Skye’s been experiencing some--”  A  _splash_ echoed behind May and Coulson winced. Simmons’ words died in her throat, and, to her credit, May simply froze and slowly closed her eyes.

“ _I’m sorry May_ ,” Skye moaned pathetically from May’s back, and Phil tried to turn his grimace into a smile. He suspected he only half succeeded. May breathed out through her nose and stared down Coulson, who put his hands up in a ‘not me!’ gesture.

“I’m going to change, and she’s going to rest,” May said through her teeth, and began to lower Skye from her shoulder. Simmons and Coulson both moved over to assist and May took that as her cue to unceremoniously drop Skye into Phil’s arms. Carefully holding Skye up under her armpits, the Director looked to Simmons.

“Are you able to look after her today?” He asked, and Simmons shook her head guiltily.

“I’m afraid not, I am absolutely swamped in the lab, I planned to work late last night but left to take care of Skye.” She placed her hand on Skye’s forehead, breathing a sigh of relief. “Her fever has gone down, she likely passed out and got sick due to lack of sleep and over-exerting herself while dehydrated. I don’t think she’ll be sick again, that may have been brought on by the pressure on her abdomen. Not that May knew, of course.”

“So would she be okay alone?” Coulson asked, and _something_ flashed in Simmons’ eyes as she looked down at Skye.

“I would prefer not to take that chance, if it is okay, Sir.” She took on a hopeful smile, then reached over to wrap Skye’s arm around her own shoulder. Coulson let go, but made sure Skye was okay to stand before backing off completely. His hand may have lingered on her waist a beat too long. Half a beat. Who was counting?

“How about this,” Simmons asked, and Coulson knew he probably wouldn’t be a huge fan of whatever plan she just proposed. “I will take Skye to get cleaned up a bit, give her a quick check to make sure everything is alright, and then I’ll bring her to your office. You have a couch in there now, correct?”

_Hold on a minute._

“Uh, I do, it’s leather, but--”

“Perfect, we shall see you shortly. Come on, Skye!” Simmons smiled cheerfully and was off, before Phil could even formulate a response.

***

“And here we are,” Simmons said in that sing-songy voice of hers, leading Skye into Coulson’s office.

“Please, come in,” the Director muttered, closing the door behind them. Simmons sat Skye down on the couch and handed her a blanket as she flopped onto her side. She really did look unwell, Coulson thought, and while Simmons was clearly quite capable and he wasn’t quite sure what he was expected to do here, the thought of Skye being so sick all night without him knowing ate at him.

Things had been so much better recently. Skye was talking to him again, her control had gotten way better, to the point where he no longer had to attend her training sessions with May. That one had actually been difficult to give up, but May put her foot down. ‘If you’re no longer a necessity you risk becoming a distraction,’ she told him pointedly, so he didn’t argue. He was happy Skye was handling her powers better however, and things on the field were going smoothly. Maybe he got complacent.

“I’ll be in the lab if you need anything, but really she should be fine as long as she _gets some rest_ ,” the doctor raised her voice for Skye’s benefit, who waved her arm lazily from the couch. Smiling at Coulson one last time, murmuring “Thank you!” she exited. Coulson shut the door behind her.

“I love Simmons but I swear to god if she tries to hand feed me I’m going to kick her ass,” Skye muttered from the couch, and Coulson’s mouth quirked to the side, amused.

“Feeling a bit coddled?” He walked over and pulled a chair up next to her head. Skye rolled around to face him. “She’s just worried,” he told her and she sighed and closed her eyes.

“Yeah, I know. I appreciate it, but I’m not a kid,” her eyes opened slightly, half-lidded but alert.

“No, you’re not.” The two of them locked eyes for a bit as Skye sleepily examined his face. Coulson cleared his throat. “But you’re a SHIELD agent, and you should know better than to overwork yourself when you’re sick.”

“There it is,” she muttered, rolling around to face the back of the couch.

“I mean it, Skye. You don’t need to rely on us for anything if you don’t want to, but I need to know.  _May_ needs to know if you’re not feeling well.” Since she had turned away and he couldn’t look her in the eyes, he settled for staring at the back of her head. Maybe she could sense it (or maybe it was because she was sick) because she shivered a little bit. His hand, moving of it’s own volition, reached over just in case and pulled her blanket higher over her shoulders, brushing gently against her hair. It was damp and pulled into a braid, Simmons must have made her dry it a bit after the shower to keep her from being cold. _She really did think of everything._

“Yes, keeping each other informed of our deteriorating condition is super important, isn’t it,” Skye said quietly, and Coulson frowned.

“It is, I think we’re both aware of that now,” he said sharply. He had learned from his mistake of keeping her in the dark, and even though having a stomach bug wasn’t exactly on the same level as possibly losing your mind to an alien consciousness, Coulson liked to think Skye wouldn’t turn his habits back around on him. Or compare the situations _at all_ , but considering she seemed a bit loopy from lack of sleep, he was willing to give that a pass.

Knowing that anger and frustration wouldn’t get him anywhere with Skye, he worked on softening his tone. “No one here is trying to tiptoe around you Skye--”

“Not anymore,” she corrected him quietly.

“Not anymore,” he amended. “But you’re of no use to us right now.” Skye’s back stiffened and she turned to face him, surprised by his words. “And you’ll be of less use to us if you get hurt or die on a mission because you didn’t tell your SO that you’re not up for field work.” Understanding flooded her tired face, and she nodded subtly. Skye didn’t want pity and she didn’t want concern, and even though he was _very_ concerned that she wasn’t taking care of herself, Coulson knew that wouldn’t be the way to approach the situation.

First and foremost, Skye wanted to help. She wanted to complete the mission, do her part and, above all, not be a hindrance. He hated that instinct of hers, that she felt like she had to work hard at all moments or else she might be cast off, but considering her past he knew where it came from. He had a reputation in the academy (and after it) for being eager-to-please, whether it was his instructors, teammates or eventually Fury himself. So maybe he was a hypocrite, telling Skye she should take care of herself in a way he never did. But the frank truth was she still had time to fix that and change her habits while he, well, was still working on it.

“Got it,” Skye said, eyes closing again. Coulson smiled.

“First, drink some water before you fall asleep again, or Dr. Simmons will have my head for being a terrible nurse.” He placed the bottle in her open hand as she laughed quietly.

“So, you’re my nurse?” She obediently took a few sips before handing the bottle back to him, and Coulson stood up.

“Looks like it. Now, get some sleep and let me--”

“--Know if I need anything. Got it,” she repeated smiling softly. She turned over again to face the back of the couch--it was sort of bright in his office-- and wiggled around a bit until she was comfortable. Once she settled Coulson stepped away, but not fully going back to his desk yet. He busied himself at his bookshelf, organized the items on the small desk Skye would often work at when she sat in his office, and generally meandered about the room until he heard the deep, even breaths signifying Skye had fallen asleep.

Quietly he walked over to Skye, _Just making sure she isn’t faking_ , he told himself, eyes running over her sleeping face. She looked peaceful, a far cry from the restless sleep she got in the months after San Juan. He remembered the deep furrow in her brow, the sweat on her forehead, and, on the worst nights, the noises. The quiet cries and pleas. When those came along he would give up on trying to soothe her passively and just wake her up, assuming she would rather be awake than trapped in whatever nightmare she was going through.

***

At first Skye had been surprised by his presence in her bunk, pulling her out of sleep, but she didn’t question it until the fourth or fifth night he showed up. He sat on the edge of her bed this time, facing away from her once she had been reassured she was fine, and it was just a dream. “How did you know?” Her voice pulled him out of his reverie, wondering if there was another way he could help her. “How do you know when I’m having...problems? I didn’t yell or anything, did I?” He didn’t turn to look at her, but she sounded embarrassed.

“No, no. You don’t yell,” he said, quietly.

“Then how--?”

“You were shaking,” Coulson said, and he heard her shift behind him. He turned, smiling awkwardly at her confused face. “Everything.”

Skye’s eyes widened, and she let out a frustrated breath. “Dammit.”

“It’s fine,” Coulson told her calmly, “nothing’s broken, just slightly out of place. You’re getting better.”

Skye sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead, hard. “Yeah, loads better. A couple more weeks and maybe I’ll stop losing control and knocking things over every time I close my eyes.”

Coulson faced forward again, rubbing a hand over his face, tired. “Do you want to talk about it? What’s causing your nightmares?”

“You know what’s causing them, Coulson,” Skye whispered, and he nodded. The memory of Trip’s death. Being trapped in stone. Ward being on the loose again. Finding out what Whitehall had done to her mother and planned to do to her-- that had been a rough conversation. He had heard about the files and tapes of what Whitehall did to his victims, and even though he refused to watch them, he’d heard enough to have a Pavlovian reaction to the monster’s name, practically needing to swallow bile every time he heard “Daniel Whitehall.”

Skye had a lot to have nightmares about, and it wasn’t as though he could tell her, ‘It isn’t real,’ or ‘It’s just a dream,’ since it was all very real. There wasn’t much he could do to comfort her in his position, even if he toppled Hydra tomorrow and strapped Ward to the Slingshot. So he simply reached back and rested his hand on her shoulder, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles on her arm. Skye sighed, and he felt her place her hand on top of his. All he could do was be there, assure her that no matter what, he would be around.

‘ _Stay close to me,_ ’ she had told him that night in the bar, and he took the words to heart.

After just a few more nights, the nightmares and shaking stopped.

***

Skye groaned slightly, easing into wakefulness. Opening her eyes, the first thing she noticed was how dark the room was. Remembering the bright office she had fallen asleep in, she wondered if she had slept until evening, until she saw the shades had been pulled down. Looking over to Coulson’s desk, she wondered if he had been working in the dark. He wasn’t there.

Blearily she looked around, then nearly smacked herself. _That’s why my feet were warm_ , she thought, amused and bewildered. Coulson was sitting at the end of the couch, her blanketed feet sitting in his lap. _He’s totally passed out_. Skye grinned. It was nice seeing him this way. Forehead unmarred by frown lines, mouth slightly open, taking deep, even breaths. His hands resting comfortably over the blanket, one putting its gentle weight on her ankle. She wondered briefly if he had been rubbing her feet, a scenario both really weird and not at all weird at the same time.

His jacket had been removed and draped over his previous chair, and his tie was loosened. If Skye removed all other context: the fact that they were in a SHIELD office, that Coulson was her boss and she was, well, Skye, she wondered what the image presented. She knew what she was thinking, but with Coulson it was a bit more difficult.

 _Don’t overthink it, Skye_. Closing her eyes again, Skye shifted to get comfortable. She felt much better and rested, but knew that she could probably sleep the rest of the day if she let herself. And she wasn’t exactly ready to end this little moment either, frankly. Trying not to disturb Coulson, Skye wiggled slightly to settle in on her back. She must have accidentally put a little too much weight on her heels, because suddenly Coulson let out a low groan.

 _Oh. Shit._ Skye’s eyes widened. _Was that an ‘ow,’ groan, orrrr…?_ She laid there, stock still, waiting to see how the situation played out. It had now become apparent that Skye’s feet were placed in an _extremely_ sensitive area, so she’d need some strategy here. She couldn’t exactly move them completely off of Coulson, and honestly, nestled between his crotch and stomach was the most comfortable place for them. If she moved them up to a less intimate area, it not only might wake him, but totally ruin the cozy position she found herself in and she really did want more sleep.

 _Okay, well, he doesn’t seem to be making any more noises any time soon so…_ Skye relaxed slightly, closing her eyes. At her feet Coulson sighed, and her eyes shot open.

_Oh._

_Hellooo nurse._

She really should have kept her feet still, dammit. _My feet? Really? This is going to give one of us a complex. I hope that’s not his ‘thing.’ Don’t be an idiot Skye, he’s asleep, he doesn’t know what you’re touching him with--WHO OR WHAT IS TOUCHING HIM._ _It could be a unicorn stepping on his lap for all he knows. Just go back to sleep._ Skye closed her eyes again, determinedly not dwelling on the fact that her foot was resting lightly against her boss’s erection in his office where anyone could walk in and see this and he could wake up embarrassed and never speak to her again. _Slow it down, Skye._

But it was done now, she couldn’t possibly fall asleep now knowing that was sitting ( _Well, standing. Shut up, Skye_ ,) at the end of the couch. But before she could come up with an alternative plan, Coulson stirred into wakefulness. He sighed a bit as his eyes blinked open groggily, then looked around. He turned his head to face Skye and smiled politely, probably a little embarrassed at falling asleep so close to her but not yet--

 _There it is_. Coulson’s eyes widened and he froze, immediately looking straight ahead.

“Oh god,” he mumbled, looking like he wanted to shrink in on himself or maybe just plain disappear.

“Sorry,” Skye said quickly, “for, _that_.”

Coulson shook his head, still not looking at her. “Not your fault,” he said, tersely.

“I mean, it’s kind of my fault,” Skye replied, getting a quick laugh from Coulson who glanced at her, then shrugged.

“Ah, a little bit, yeah.”

Skye tilted her head curiously, not sure if he meant it was her fault because of her feet just now, or in the grand scheme of things, she contributed to his current state. _Better not to ask,_ she thought, but felt a stupid-silly grin taking over her face. “So, do you need me to move, or…?”

Coulson shook his head. “ _No_ , no, just give me a minute.”

“A minute, huh?” That earned a scathing look. “I mean-- am I still allowed to blame my fevered state for any stupid things I say?”

“Let’s say your time just ran out,” Coulson replied.

“Deal,” Skye said. “I can move my feet, if you want. _Off of you_ ,” she clarified, then hoped that still counted for her fevered-brain-time. Surprisingly, Coulson looked conflicted. He wants to stay, she thought, gleefully, before reminding herself to chill. “I mean, we could figure something else out,” she told him casually, and the director looked up, curious.

***

“I feel so tiny in your arms,” Phil joked, and Skye moved a hand up from his stomach briefly and smacked him lightly on the chest.

“Shut up, man, I’m trying to sleep.” He couldn’t see her smile, but Coulson was sure he heard it in her voice. Or felt it against his shoulder. Skye returned her arm to his waist and squeezed, curling in closer to his back. The couch had been too small a space for the two of them laying like this, so after laying a blanket down and being assured that she was in fact comfortable, the two of them had moved to the floor. He didn’t necessarily need to nap with Skye since he wasn’t sick, but as the director, Coulson figured he could always use some time to catch up on sleep. Plus if it helped Skye get some rest, he thought he should do his part.

“This is nice,” he murmured and felt Skye nod sleepily.

“I know, right? I tried to tell Simmons, the floor is way underrated.”

“That’s not--” Phil stopped himself, although at this point it was pretty much too late. But Skye just sighed against his back and twisted her fingers in his shirt.

“Yeah, this too."

 


End file.
